


Tremolo

by Lilsoshie, marose



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Felching, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Overstimulation, Riding, Rimming, after sex cuddles, lemme know if i missed a tag i suck at tagging, showering together, this is one of the softest things i ever wrote, tony is very in charge but also very in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 05:19:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20091904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilsoshie/pseuds/Lilsoshie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/marose/pseuds/marose
Summary: “You’re gonna ride me,” Tony decides, easing his fingers free and cherishing the unhappy whine the move inspires. “Up, come on.”“Tony,” Peter says, a complaint, an exhausted plea.





	Tremolo

Peter Parker makes a lovely visual. Tony is a visual man, and Peter spread out like a banquet across Tony’s twelve hundred thread count Egyptian cotton bedsheets is a fucking feast for the eyes. Lean muscle, slim waist, sharp hipbones, delicate collarbones, tense abs, quivering thighs – Tony can’t decide where to look. The boy is beautiful, has had Tony captivated for years now; has managed to _keep_ Tony captivated, unwavering and focused on nothing but Peter as soon as the kid’s in his eye line.

That small, pink mouth. Those big, doe eyes. His pale cheeks flushed with pleasure every time Tony dedicates his attention solely to his boy. Even now, after months of touching and tasting, Peter still stutters and blushes when Tony stands close. It’s like the honeymoon period just won’t quit. It’s like nothing Tony’s ever experienced. It’s a low level thrum, constantly stirring in the back of Tony’s mind, constantly tingling at the tips of Tony’s fingers. Every text message or fleeting caress has Tony’s heart in his throat.

Here, now, with Peter spread out on his back and tight around three of Tony’s fingers, Tony doesn’t even want to blink lest he miss a hitch in breath, a flutter of Peter’s delicate eyelashes. Tony wants to look, wants to watch, wants to _see._

“You’re gonna ride me,” Tony decides, easing his fingers free and cherishing the unhappy whine the move inspires. “Up, come on.”

“Tony,” Peter says, a complaint, an exhausted plea.

Tony’s already coaxed out a couple of orgasms just from close attention to his boy’s prostate, and the tremors of Peter’s pleasure are still rolling through his limp limbs. He knows the boy can take more.

“Up,” Tony says again, moving to lie on his back next to Peter.

Tony pats at his own thighs in invitation, and Peter breathes out hard, moves to comply.

“There he is,” Tony says in praise as Peter swings his leg over Tony to straddle his lap, Tony’s hard cock pressing desperately against the inside of his zipper.

Peter is bare, but Tony still has on his suit trousers, his undershirt. The contrast looks good, and Tony drinks it in; Peter’s pale thighs bracketed around Tony’s hips, dark grey pinstripe next to soft, white skin.

“God, you’re good to look at,” Tony mumbles, petting light fingers down Peter’s belly, ignoring Peter’s heavy cock to run firm palms up and down Peter’s tense thighs. “You want my cock, Pete? Wanna work it inside you, baby?”

Peter nods, blinks slow, tongue lapping compulsively at his lower lip. The only time words seem beyond him is at times like this, fucked-out and needy, brain struggling to focus on anything but chasing the pleasure Tony provides.

Tony stares for another handful of seconds, tries to commit the moment to memory, and then looks pointedly down at the bulge trapped beneath his slacks.

“Go on, then.”

Peter raises up on his knees, legs still trembling slightly, and works Tony’s button open with clumsy hands, pulls down Tony’s zipper, pushes his pants down just enough to free Tony’s erection and expose the V of Tony’s hipbones. The boy’s breathing harder already, looking down at Tony’s dick like he wants to drink from it.

Peter braces his weight with one hand on Tony’s chest, shuffles forwards a couple inches and reaches his other hand between them so he can line Tony up with his slick, loose hole. Tony can just about see Peter’s toes curling, with the effort of holding himself up, maybe, or just the pleasure of the head of Tony’s cock finally breaching him. Either way, Tony loves it, soaks the sight in along with all the rest on display to him.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, but when Peter sighs and drops down another inch Tony says it louder, more deliberate, “Fuck, _Peter._”

Peter keens, thighs trembling hard, his body tired already from all the sensation Tony has teased out of it tonight. Tony can make out the lines of Peter’s ribs as his chest heaves and he reaches up, splays his fingers across Peter’s ribcage, feels his lungs expand.

Peter’s life, rushing through him, heart thrumming beneath Tony’s palms. Tony breathes out hard, closes his eyes so he can focus on the wet, sucking heat of Peter’s body.

“Oh, god, baby,” Tony coos, forcing his eyes back open, missing the sight of Peter already. “God, you feel so good. _Fuck,_ I wanna keep you here like this, on display for me.”

Peter’s knees slip, legs giving out. It’s like gravity grows hands and shoves Peter down; he lands heavy onto the thick length of Tony’s cock and seats himself fully, shocking a deep groan from Tony and a sharp cry from Peter.

“Oh, fuck, ohfuckohfuck,” Peter babbles, high and breathy, hands curling into fists at Tony’s chest, whole body shaking. “Oh, god,” he whines, spreading his legs wider, pushing himself down further and forcing Tony in impossibly deep. “_Tony._”

“I’ve got you,” Tony says, voice rough and barely controlled.

Tony pets down Peter’s sides, up Peter’s chest to run his thumbs across Peter’s hard nipples. They both have to take several deep breaths; Peter to get used to the feel of being stretched, Tony to stop himself just flipping them over and taking what he now so desperately needs.  
  
The thought of watching Peter ride him outweighs the ache in his balls. Tony pets at Peter’s nipples, at Peter’s abs, and when Peter twitches his hips just slightly Tony knows his boy is ready.

“Come on, baby,” Tony prompts, pinching at Peter’s thighs and groaning at the way it makes Peter twitch. “I know you’ve some gas left in the tank. Ride my dick, honey.”

Peter moans, jerks his hips, wriggles a little as he gets his knees back under him. Each movement seems to reach into Tony and pluck at strings of pleasure, making his body thrum already. The sight of Peter’s stomach muscles tensing and relaxing, Peter’s thighs clenching, it has Tony slamming his head back into his pillows so he can stare hard at his ceiling and compose himself.

Tony’s reaction seems to fuel Peter, and he leans back, braces his hands on Tony’s thighs. Tony can’t look away for long. Peter is a vision, long and lean and exposed, eyes dark and toned ab muscles rolling as he shows off for Tony.

“Jesus fucking Christ, just look at you,” Tony mutters, voice dripping awe and desire as his eyes rove over his boy, unable to settle, eager to take in all he can see. “My pretty boy. Make me come, sweet thing, come on, put some effort into it.”

Peter rolls his hips in little circles. Tony moves to clutch at his pillow instead of Peter’s thighs so his boy can move freely, unguided, and settles in to watch the show.

Peter starts enthusiastic, but after enduring hours of Tony licking him open and fingering him deep, Peter struggles to keep going, and Tony can’t help the smug smirk he can feel at the corner of his mouth as he watches Peter lose steam. His lively, energetic boy with exhausted tears clumping up his eyelashes as he tries to ride Tony’s cock.

Tony chuckles warm and deep and just this side of mocking.

“Getting tired, baby boy?” Tony asks, shoving his hands beneath his pillow to better prop his head up and witness Peter’s struggle. He twitches his hips up just slightly, just enough to give Peter a taste of mercy, and the way Peter slumps down into the movement lights Tony up. “Have I worn my boy out already? Come now, I’m just starting to feel it.”

Tony rolls his hips up, properly this time, and Peter’s breath leaves him in a hard, sharp cry.

“You need help, sweet thing?” Tony asks, bucking up into Peter harder, pushing more deliciously needy sounds from Peter’s slack mouth, chin shining with drool, eyes fluttering shut.

Peter shakes his head, stubborn; braces his weight against Tony’s chest, fingers splayed across the soft white cotton of Tony’s shirt, and starts to build his rhythm again. There’s a little crease of concentration between his brows as he tries to maintain a steady tempo, and Tony can’t help but knock him off, thrusting up into his tight little ass in an irregular pattern and keeping him from finding a steady beat.

Peter’s frustrated little huffs have Tony’s stomach in knots. Peter’s voice creeps ever higher and louder; grunts becoming moans becoming breathless cries.

“Ah, ah, fuck, _Mr. Stark._”

Tony feels feral at the sound, wants to grip Peter tight, wants to hold him still and fuck up into him until the boy is crying, but he forces himself to slow and stop, though it makes them both tremble.

“Thought you didn’t need the help, champ.”

Peter’s dick _lurches_ at the words, pre-come dripping and smearing across Tony’s belly, making even more of a mess of them both. Peter breathes in like he’s going to speak, but nothing more than a thin whine escapes him.

Tony feels helpless as he watches his own hands reach out, fingers trailing up Peter’s inner thighs, dancing along the length of Peter’s dick, coaxing out more of Peter’s wet pleasure and catching it, smearing it across the smooth, hot head.

The noise Peter makes sounds like dying. The boy’s hips twitch forwards desperately, mindlessly, making a mess of Tony’s fingers and palm. Tony moves without conscious thought; reaches up to push two fingers into Peter’s open, panting mouth and paint his soft tongue with his own salt.

“Lick your mess clean,” Tony rumbles, groaning, delirious, dizzy with want as Peter laps and sucks at the digits in his mouth, clutching at Tony’s wrist with one hand, leaning his weight heavy at Tony’s chest on his other palm.

Tony couldn’t stop himself from thrusting up into Peter’s perfect body if he tried, mind zeroing in on the way Peter’s muscles cling and suck around his dick, fitting him like a glove. He can feel the vibrations of Peter’s voice around his fingers and can’t think beyond imagining his dick there instead.

Peter’s barely holding himself up, is about to fall any second, and Tony swipes his fingers across Peter’s wet lips, drags the digits down Peter’s drool-slick chin to wrap light but firm around Peter’s throat, holding the boy upright. He reaches down with his free hand, grips at Peter’s ass, pulls him open wider, guides him into a faster pace as he fucks up into the glorious wet heat of him.

Peter’s moans turn breathless, strangled. His eyes are heavy-lidded and near-black. His dripping mouth is wide open now as he struggles to breathe, his voice punched out of him, unhindered and beautiful as an angel choir. He’s so wet with lube and Tony’s pre-come that every drag of his hips creates a wet squelch that has Tony growling, sparking something primal inside Tony that bares its teeth and howls.

Peter’s flushed red, face screwed up and embarrassed - by the sounds probably, young and relatively inexperienced as he is - and it just spurs Tony on more, each wet sound making Tony’s cock pulse with pleasure. He’s moaning loud, thrusting up into Peter, hard, brutal, _desperate._

Through dark lashes and the haze of need Tony sees the moment Peter blinks back his tears enough to focus on Tony’s face, and then his inner muscles are fluttering and clenching, his body is shaking, and his hand flies to his dick as he comes long and wet and incredibly messy all over Tony’s stomach and his own fist. He barely makes a sound, voice warbling and gasping and not for the first time Tony is so incredibly grateful for his surveillance equipment – he needs to listen to that sound on repeat for the rest of his days.

Peter shakes apart thoroughly, quivers hard, and he crumples, Tony ready to catch him as he falls, holding the boy close and flipping them over to finally chase his own pleasure. He drags his cloying shirt up and off, hasty, mindless; throws it aside like it offends him.

The shaking foundations of Tony’s self-control topple over beneath the weight of the display before him. He grips behind Peter’s knees with heavy, clumsy hands, and pushes Peter legs as wide as they’ll go, shoves the boy’s knees up to his shoulders and fucks in deep and careless. Marvels for a moment at the way his open zipper presses red marks into Peter’s pale ass cheeks.

Peter _wails,_ oversensitive and wriggling, clawing at Tony’s wide shoulders and thick biceps, nails digging in hard and making Tony hiss, pushing Tony one step closer to the sharp edge of his climax.

The long line of Peter’s throat as he throws his head back into the plush pillows is too much to resist, and Tony pushes in as close as possible, lays his words directly against Peter’s sweat-slick skin.

“That’s it, baby, mark me up, claim me, make me _feel_ it,” Tony growls, pounding in deeper, overwhelmed by the catch of their skin sticking together and pulling apart, stomachs both wet and tacky with Peter’s come and creating a new level of sound to add to the erotic cacophony they’re creating together.

Tony flattens down on top of his boy, brought down to his elbows, tensing and relaxing his stomach muscles where he can feel Peter’s cock giving a valiant attempt at resurrection.

Tony feels as much animal as man, rutting into Peter at a brutal pace until Peter is half-hard again and squealing, his cock leaking, his muscles jolting tight around Tony’s dick, making Tony snarl and bite down at the side of Peter’s neck.

“Holy shit, fuck, _fuck,_” Peter cries before following suit, biting hard at Tony’s shoulder and making Tony grunt, his cock _throbbing._

Tony could come right there and then, but the prospect of wringing one more orgasm from Peter, the thought of making Peter _scream_ for him – it’s just too tempting to pass up. Tony presses his forehead to Peter’s temple, bites at the inside of his own cheek, grinds his cock in deep and precise with short, hard thrusts until he’s gradually coaxed Peter back to full mast, deep sobs wracking the boy’s slim frame.

“You gonna go again, huh?” Tony asks, voice darkly amused like he hasn’t been clinging onto coherence, like he hasn’t been directing each roll of his hips with the precise intension of utterly ruining Peter.

“Okay,” Tony mumbles, like he’s being _kind._ “I’ll help you go again. One more, Pete, you can do it, give it up for me.”

Tony nips at the shell of Peter’s ear, hooks Peter’s calf over his shoulder and grips at Peter’s hair with his now free hand. His voice is barely recognisable, dropping down to a deep rumble, a dangerous growl: “Just one more time, baby boy.”

Peter is crying freely and, fuck, it shouldn’t be this much of a turn-on, but every deep sob wracks through him and makes him clench deliciously around Tony and Tony is only human. Who could resist that? Who could resist _encouraging_ that?

“Please, please,” Peter is gasping, the meaning lost in the haze of their frantic fucking.

Is he asking Tony to stop? Begging him to keep going? Tony doesn’t know and doesn’t, in this moment, feel inclined to ask. He leans in close to kiss Peter’s wet cheeks, laps at the salt he finds there, pushing Peter’s knees up further with his shoulders at the movement and making Peter keen even louder.

“God, you’re doing so good for me, Pete,” Tony groans. “You’re taking it so well, sweetheart.”

Tony can feel Peter’s muscles fluttering, tightening, and sits back on his haunches to watch. Peter’s legs splay open on the bed, and Tony grips the back of the boy’s knees, lifts them to bracket Tony’s sides, runs his hands up to knead at the tense muscle of Peter’s ass.

Peter’s face screws up tight, teardrops squeezed from his eyes to roll down red, already-soaked cheeks. He’s stunning. Breath-taking. Tony’s _enraptured._ He can feel Peter quivering, on edge, and he lifts the boy’s hips, pulls back almost all the way out then slams home with force, inches Peter up the bed, balls slapping at Peter’s ass.

Peter’s back curves up, hands gripping at the sheets, at the pillow beneath his head, at the headboard, scrambling for purchase. The noises that he offers with every hard thrust makes Tony feel like a _god._

Tony’s bed is heavy, hardwood; it doesn’t quite slam against the wall, but it does creak with the strength of Tony’s movements. Tony raises up on his knees, lifting Peter’s hips higher, spurred on by the boy’s breathless little sighs, Peter’s body stretched out, the position making his lungs struggle audibly. Tony groans, loud.

“Stealing your breath, honey?”

Peter whines, and Tony’s barely hanging on, the cling of Peter’s thighs around his waist, the way Tony’s hands are slipping in their combined sweat, the trembling of Peter’s muscles around his cock, all combining and making Tony dizzy with pleasure. Tony’s knees slip on the sheets from the force he’s using, and Peter just lies back and _takes_ it, better than anyone else ever could.

The pleasure builds up in Tony’s belly, his balls drawn tight, his breath coming quick and eager, soft groans on every exhale as Peter tightens around him more with every thrust. Sweat drips from Tony’s wet hair, lands on Peter’s chest, and Tony feels a sudden urge to lick it up, to taste the salt of the two of them, to consume all of Peter that he can.

Peter’s cock jerks, and he shudders on the edge of orgasm. Tony’s lungs twist with how good it feels, watches with keen eyes as Peter’s face slackens with pleasure for just a moment before it screws up again.

“Please,” Peter wails, “No more, I can’t…”

“Oh, Jesus, fuck,” Tony moans, collapsing down on top of Peter to nip at his exposed throat, rolling his hips deep and slow, drawing out the final moments before he loses himself, keeping them both on the edge for as long as possible.

Peter’s so wet with lube and Tony’s pre-come, so loose and well-fucked, stretched out by Tony’s tongue and fingers and cock. Tony’s stomach tightens, his hips speeding back up, driven by pure instinct and need, and he lays a clumsy hand on Peter’s cock, wrings Peter’s final climax out of him by force.

Peter does scream for him, his voice high-pitched and overwhelmed; the sweetest tremolo cutting through the rushing in Tony’s ears.

Peter’s body seizes up, shakes hard as he comes wet and messy across his tense abs and chest and neck, hot and sticky across Tony’s belly, and Tony trips into his own climax with a long groan of relief. Peter’s a cool drink on a hot day, beyond a refreshment; a _necessity._ Tony mouths wet at Peter’s shoulder, panting against Peter’s overheated skin, stroking light fingers across Peter’s weakly twitching dick until the boy squirms.

“_Tony._” A quiet, breathless complaint.

Tony relents, braces himself over Peter’s trembling frame, feels Peter’s leg splay wide with his exhaustion. Tony’s shaking hard himself, brain scrambled from how good he feels. He kisses along Peter’s shoulder, whispers sweet praise into Peter’s soft skin.

“So good, baby, so good for me. Fuck, can’t believe how fucking perfect you feel. Blows me away every time. My sweet boy.”

“Tony,” Peter sighs, body limp and panting and so, so pretty. “Thank you.”

“God, you’re gonna kill me here,” Tony groans, flushed hot and fluttering with his adoration for this perfect boy.

He presses slow, lazy kisses to Peter’s soft, welcoming mouth, treasures the curve of Peter’s lips, feels his own mouth stretch into a delighted smile at the rush of endorphins flooding through him. Their sweat cools quickly, makes Tony press closer to Peter’s heat, Peter’s fingers through his hair just as much to blame for his shiver as the cool air is.

Peter cards his fingers through Tony’s damp hair, pets at the back of Tony’s neck, across Tony’s shoulders, down Tony’s spine and shivery sides to knead at Tony’s ass, and Tony presses his smile to Peter’s flushed cheek, to Peter’s salt wet throat.

Tony pushes one arm beneath Peter’s head, soft cock finally slipping from the heat of Peter’s body, Peter letting out a greedy little whine of protest at the loss. Peter’s thighs bracket Tony’s waist again, brush up and down Tony’s sides, heat Tony up. Tony nuzzles into Peter’s neck until the boy giggles, presses his teeth to the skin there so Peter can feel his grin.

“We should really go clean up—“ Peter starts to say, but Tony huffs, shakes his head, pushes up to press their mouths back together and smother the words.

“Mmm, no,” Tony says between soft kisses. “Five more minutes.”

Peter chuckles against Tony’s mouth, wraps his arms around Tony’s shoulders, presses his tongue into Tony’s mouth. Five more minutes of sweet kisses, loud in the quiet of the room, bodies sliding against each other with how slick they both are, shivery caresses across rapidly cooling skin. When Tony pushes in close and their soft cocks slide against each other, Peter huffs, thighs tightening around Tony to still him.

“Okay, shower,” Peter says, firmer now, and Tony sighs but nods his agreement.

Peeling apart is always unpleasant, and Peter wrinkles his nose at the mess of his belly.

“Look at the state of this!”

Tony laughs, ruffles Peter’s hair, grins as Peter twists away.

“You complaining?” Tony asks, smile bright and adoring.

Peter grumbles, shuffles off the bed.

“No,” he admits begrudgingly as he makes his way to the en suite.

Tony kicks off his damp-cool pants as he follows close behind, hands at Peter’s hips, eager to stay within arm’s reach.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, pinching Peter’s ass and giggling like a naughty schoolboy as Peter swats at him.

The warm water of the shower helps chase away the chill of their sweat soaked skin, and they melt into the spray. They help each other wash off, firm palms soothing aching muscles, mouths pressing together again like neither of them can quite get enough.

Tony’s hands stray, as they always seem to, and he pets at Peter’s loose hole, fingers slipping through the lube and his own come.

Tony groans into Peter’s mouth. “Lemme see.”

Peter nips at Tony’s lower lip, pulls back to shoot Tony a satisfied smirk, then turns to present his back. He shivers as Tony trails the tips of his fingers down Peter’s spine, across Peter’s sides, down to spread his cheeks, Tony’s soft sound of pleasure echoing around the tile.

“Fuck, just look at you,” Tony mumbles, staring down at Peter’s pink, wet hole.

He pushes two fingers in easy, and Peter twitches, braces his palms on the wall of the shower, shifts his legs wider. Tony’s come leaks out as he presses in and the flash of heat the sight inspires makes him groan with a primal satisfaction.

It’s far too soon for another go of it. Still, Tony wishes he were a couple decades younger with the vain hope of getting it up for another round; wants to fill Peter up until it’s dripping down his legs in thick, steady rivulets. Maybe, one day, he could bring up the idea of a plug.

He finds himself pressing closer, laying wet kisses down Peter’s spine, lowering himself onto his knees, lapping his way down towards Peter’s hole. Peter’s back arches at the first press of Tony’s tongue, Peter’s head dropping forward to rest his forehead against the tile of the shower wall, hips pushing back in invitation.

Tony pushes his tongue inside easy, licks up the mess he made, and Peter whines, slumps forward to rest his weight against his elbows, hands clutching at his own hair, ribs expanding wide as he pants and moans.

“God, Tony, what are you doing?” Peter keens, breathless with surprised laughter. “That’s so fucking filthy, _Jesus Christ._ You’re such a disgusting old man.”

Tony chuckles, feels Peter’s hole clench around nothing against his lips. Peter breathes out hard, pushes back a little against Tony’s mouth, makes Tony laugh again.

“I’m just cleaning up after myself, sweetheart,” Tony says, lapping again at Peter’s now mostly-clean skin.

Tony rubs his beard against Peter’s ass cheeks, across the back of Peter’s thighs, wants to leave him red and raw and constantly reminded of Tony on his knees for him. He creeps a hand around to pet at Peter’s soft cock, makes Peter twitch back away from his hand and towards Tony’s mouth.

“Okay, fuck, I’m clean,” Peter gasps, gripping Tony’s wrist and pushing his hand away.

“Am I too much for you, baby?” Tony asks, cheeky, nipping at Peter’s ass cheek.

He grips at Peter’s hips to steady himself as he struggles back to his feet with a soft groan.

“Knees not what they used to be, old man?” Peter snarks back, turning to face Tony, grinning, eyes lit up with mischief.

Tony leans in, but Peter presses his hands to Tony’s chest, stilling him.

“Kiss your old man, Peter,” Tony says with a pout. Peter screws his face up.

“You’re gross.”

“Uh huh,” Tony says, tickling at Peter’s sides, startling him enough that he lowers his hands to Tony’s wrists, giving Tony just enough time to close the distance and lay a wet kiss on Peter’s mouth, pushing his tongue between surprised-slack lips.

“Tony!” Peter pushes Tony back a step, turns his grinning face away. His admonishing tone is ruined by his laughter. “I’m repulsed right now.”

Tony leans his elbows either side of Peter’s head, kisses Peter’s embarrassed cheek. Peter’s petting up and down his sides, pulling him in closer, belying his protesting words.

Tony grins against Peter’s pink skin, chest warm and full, and nuzzles into Peter’s welcoming heat.

“Sure you are, kiddo.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so so so much to soshie for writing this with me.  
i love you forever, sosh, you're a damn inspiration!! <3


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